Northern Ontario’s wildfire evacuees are facing an uncertain future as they adapt to temporary life in Greater Toronto Area hotels, sometimes hundreds of kilometers from their homes and communities.
For James Moonias, a 57-year-old evacuee from Neskantaga First Nation, the contrast couldn’t be more stark. “Back home, I can walk out my door and be fishing in minutes,” he told me during our conversation at a Mississauga hotel that’s currently housing about 170 evacuees. “Here, I’m surrounded by concrete and traffic noise instead of trees and water.”
Neskantaga, located about 430 kilometers northeast of Thunder Bay, was one of several First Nations communities forced to evacuate in late May when wildfires threatened their safety. More than 500 residents were airlifted to various locations across Ontario, with many finding temporary shelter in GTA hotels.
The Ontario Ministry of Natural Resources and Forestry reports that over 30 active wildfires continue to burn across Northern Ontario, with several classified as “not under control.” This has left evacuees uncertain about when they might return home.
Leona Moonias, James’s sister and a mother of three, described the challenges of maintaining cultural connections while displaced. “We’re trying to organize traditional activities for our children, but it’s difficult in a hotel setting,” she explained. “Our elders especially are struggling with being disconnected from the land.”
The City of Toronto’s Emergency Management Office has been coordinating with provincial authorities and Indigenous leaders to provide support services. According to city spokesperson Jennifer McKelvie, “We’re working to ensure evacuees have access to healthcare, mental health support, and culturally appropriate services during this difficult time.”
Local organizations have stepped up to help. The Native Canadian Centre of Toronto has organized community meals and cultural activities, while the Toronto Indigenous Health Advisory Circle is providing health support services.
Dr. Janet Morrison, a psychologist specializing in disaster response, emphasizes the importance of these connections. “Beyond the immediate physical displacement, there’s significant psychological trauma associated with being removed from one’s home and community,” she noted. “Maintaining cultural practices and community bonds is crucial for resilience.”
For families with school-aged children, the evacuation has disrupted education. The Toronto District School Board has worked to accommodate students in local schools temporarily, but the transition hasn’t been seamless.
“My daughter missed her grade eight graduation ceremony,” said Melissa Albany, another evacuee from Deer Lake First Nation. “These are life moments that can’t be replaced.”
The economic impact is another concern. Many evacuees have been unable to work during the displacement, creating financial strain. Provincial assistance programs provide basic support, but many evacuees report gaps in coverage.
Some community members have found temporary employment in the GTA, but language barriers and lack of urban experience present challenges. “I worked as a heavy equipment operator back home,” said Thomas Beardy, 43. “Those skills don’t easily transfer to city jobs.”
While Toronto offers amenities and distractions, many evacuees express feelings of isolation amid the urban landscape. Hotel common areas have become impromptu community gathering spaces where people share news from home and support each other.
Health concerns compound these challenges. Several evacuees with chronic conditions require specialized medical care, and navigating an unfamiliar healthcare system adds stress to an already difficult situation.
The uncertainty of their return timeline weighs heavily. Environmental officials cannot yet predict when conditions will be safe enough for communities to welcome residents back. Some evacuees worry about what they’ll find when they do return.
“We don’t know if there’s damage to our homes or community infrastructure,” James Moonias said. “The longer we’re away, the more worried we become.”
Despite these hardships, community leaders are working to maintain hope and connection. Weekly virtual community meetings provide updates and a sense of continuity. Cultural activities and sharing circles in hotels help preserve traditions even in displacement.
The situation highlights broader issues around emergency preparedness in remote Indigenous communities and climate change impacts on Northern Ontario. This marks the third evacuation for some communities in the past decade, pointing to a troubling pattern of increasing wildfire risks.
As southern Ontario enters summer, northern evacuees find themselves longing for the familiar landscapes of home while navigating an urban environment that feels foreign in nearly every way.
For now, hotel corridors have become community pathways, and conference rooms serve as makeshift gathering spaces. It’s a testimony to the resilience of these northern communities that they continue to maintain their cultural connections even while displaced.
“We are still here as a community,” Leona Moonias emphasized. “Different place, same people. We’ll get through this together.”
